Winter Roses
by muldahhh
Summary: "A storm of rose petals blew across a blood-streaked sky, as blue as the eyes of death."


**Disclaimer:** I do not own anything or anyone in this fanfiction.

**Spoilers**: pre-series + some quotes from the books (not spoilery, I would say).

**Rating**: T, in case.

**A/N: **Some paragraphs about Rhaegar and Lyanna, mostly revolving around the motif of blue winter roses. Tourney at Harrenhal - Lyanna was the Knight of the Laughing Tree, what Rhaegar discovered, but kept it for himself. And later, Robert's rebellion, R+L=J... and no one was happy ever again.

* * *

**WINTER ROSES**

* * *

_There is some good to be said of my father, surely?_

_There is, Your Grace. Of him, (...) and Rhaegar. Him most of all._

Once upon a time, Rhaegar told Jon Connington he doesn't want to be the king.

It was the year of the false summer, when everybody thought things somehow are going to be fine and all the polite smiles were as false as faces of your "friends". The sky reminded white when they were waiting for a raven from Dorne, from Oberyn "Red Viper", Elia's brother. Jon was saying something about his father, but he quickly noticed his friend wasn't listening to him.

Then Rhaegar told him what was on his mind. It was all dark and pessimistic; the prince could carry on with illusion of happiness and clarity, but not for long. Westeros was like a pair of mad warriors, keeping themselves in a sight, yet not holding the swords in a dance of death. Aerys and Iron Throne wasn't a true right, not for the most of citizens of Seven Kingdoms. Elia… he didn't want to talk about her. Jon could swear that only Aegon and Rhaenys were a reason for his friend to still go on.

"But," Rhaegar said, looking as a black point on the sky was reaching them, "I know there are some things I have to do. I didn't choose my family, and my future. It feels like I'm just playing my part in someone's else life. If there's something I can do, do right, it's for the people who are going to be my people. I know I can't let them down."

"Nice and true, indeed." Jon nodded his head. "But what about you?"

"Haven't you heard? My life is not made of my choices." And for once, his smile was full of cynics and bitterness. Just for a second.

…

_Robert will never keep to one bed, Lyanna had told him at Winterfell, on the night long ago when their father had promised her hand to the young Lord of Storm__'__s End. (…) Love is sweet, dearest Ned, but it cannot change a man__'__s nature._

Maybe it was only Lyanna, or Winterfell's walls suddenly became like a trap.

It was full moon when she left her chamber and went to the stables. The whole caste seemed to be sleeping, except her horse Nym, that have not protested when the girl bestride Nym and they both got further from home.

There was a place in a forest, where a small river had its beginning, with crystal and cold water. Lyanna knew she will end up here, just like she knew her father set up her marriage with Robert. It was just a matter of time when it will become a fact. Lord Rickard never used to hide the truth, but still, her earlier protests and anger was useless. Rights of this world… where she couldn't say a thing about her own life.

So tonight, she didn't cry powerless tears; she just smiled politely to her future husband, important lord of respected house. If someone showed more of feeling, it was only her brother, Brandon. He never liked Robert, and Lyanna strongly doubted it's going to change.

_I_ _could_ _run_ _away_, she thought, taking some water in her hands. Just now. Somewhere where she could do things by herself. Volantis maybe. She could be a knight, why not? And still, she knew she is not going to leave Winterfell and hers not-her future. Why?

_Because I'm a Stark and we don't fear, _she said to herself_. And even if, I have no one to go with. _

…

_The dragon prince sang a song so sad it made the wolf maid sniffle._

(There was a single thought in her head – _he_ _sang_ _about_ _life_ _neither_ _of_ _us_ _can_ _have_.)

…

_Ned remembered the moment when all the smiles died, when Prince Rhaegar Targaryen urged his horse past his own wife, the Dornish princess Elia Martell, to lay the queen of beauty's laurel in Lyanna's lap. He could see it still: a crown of winter roses, as blue as frost._

Crowd was cheering for him as he defended ser Barristan, the last of challengers. He looked around, with blood still madly running through his veins, tired and covered with dust of the area. Someone gave him a pretty laurel made of flowers, for his queen of love and beauty.

Rhaegar saw Elia, smiling and laughing with her friends, as she was waiting for him. But for some reasons, his sight came further, at right, watching his father's people, lords from Reach, lords from the North… And then, she was there, smiling restrainedly and clapping her hands, acting such differently as yesterday at night... Once a knight, she-knight, standing straight and bravely saying things no one should hear, and he felt like she had taken them out of the depth of his soul, because at some points, they both seemed to be so similar; then again a proper lady from noble house promised to someone who more likely could not deserve her. Now, Lyanna's eyes never tried to meet his, but he knew she would more likely trust that he will keep some things in the secret.

The horse moved, and when Rhaegar passed Elia, he noticed everything has become silent, people have frozen in one moment. But then, he could see only Lyanna Stark, as smile on her face slowly fades away, her bottom lip starts to tremble, just for a seconds or two, as she figures it out. If she would like to, she could stand up and go, except she could not, not without making this suspicions, so here she stays, acting like she did until yesterday.

Blue roses look like tears made of ice when Rhaegar gives them to Lyanna, feeling like the air fills with a cold taste of decision. He bends his knees to the ground.

"My lady,", he whispers, knowing that some things will never be the same, and not knowing how painfully right he was with this thought.

…

_Ned thought of pale blue roses, and for a moment he wanted to weep._

Months passed and that madness which they started became a pricey thing.

Lyanna wished she could just be here, in the Tower of Joy forever, pretending there's no world out there, no blood, no war, no fault. It's been so long since there was still a possibility of stopping this and yet, she knew. It wouldn't change a thing. She wouldn't, too.

"I think it's a boy," she told Rhaegar a month ago, when the sun came with warmth and sweetness. Mornings were almost always full of hope. They could forget that nothing is going to be fine. He just smiled at her, caring her cheek and she saw a shadow hiding in his lips, and she wondered what could've gone more wrong, more unlucky than all of this.

He never left her, and Lyanna knew he wanted to do something during these months, so badly, and she was just full of relief he did not. And at the same time, she was aware there will come a day when she won't be able to stop him.

One day, when he woke up her, with moon and sun both still one the sky, he was wearing his armor. She knew, and her heart dropped.

"When I will back," he started, and these words hurt her to the bones.

"You won't," she replied, meeting his gaze. Rhaegar sighed. Those things he wanted to tell her mattered, but words, words would give away the real meaning of all of this, so he just kissed her, putting his hand on her stomach. The baby kicked. _He_ _knew_, _too_. Tears fell on petals of winter roses, as they filled air with bitterness.

…

_Promise me, she had cried, in a room that smelled of blood and roses. Promise me, Ned… Ned remembered the way she had smiled then, how tightly her fingers had clutched his as she gave up her hold on life, the rose petals spilling from her palm, dead and black._

(Ned took the baby in his hands. Boy. He closed his eyes, wondering what he has just done, wishing it all was just an awful dream. It wasn't. His sister lied there, only with flowers as a company.

She was leaning on the roses until she died, like she tried to keep him with her until the very end.)

…

_Rubies flew like drops of blood from the chest of a dying prince, and he sank to his knees in the water and with his last breath murmured a woman__'__s name..._

Rhaegarwisheditallcouldstop_. We're one kingdom. We're not supposed to fight each other. _

Robert hold his warhammer like lives would depend on it. Well, they did. Rhaegar would be scared of the hatred he could feel from him – if he would bring himself to care. He knew he's not going to make it home tonight. Funny, but it made him calm. He almost laughed.

Flash of the sun reflected in his sword. Prince's moves were too slow, too fragile. He heard Baratheon's scream, more likely sounding like an animal's one, and in the next second he just felt crippling pain. His chest and throat seemed to be set on fire. Sword fell out of his hands, cold water calmed knees, as he raised his head in the sky.

„_Lyanna_."

One word cost him much. He could feel her long hair tickling his cheek. Rhaegar wanted to touch her face, one last time, but his hand remained unmoved. Air suddenly smelled of roses.


End file.
